Lemon Lollypops
by Howlinchickhowl
Summary: This was not what he had come here to do. Not at all.


**Title:** Lemon Lollypops

**Author:** Prawncocktailflavouredcashewnuts

**Author's Note:** Ok, this is the first fic I've written in a couple of years, and I hope that I'm not too rusty. I don't know yet, but I think this is going to be more than one part, but if I do decide to do it, I was thinking about doing it Memento style. If anyone has any opinions on whether or not they think that would be a good or bad idea then I'd appreciate the feedback. I'm also on the look out for Betas if anyone wanted to offer me their services…please. So yeah, hope you all enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own House or any of the characters involved, so I would appreciate it if you kindly chose not to sue me.

She tasted like lemons that were impossibly sweet, the taste of the lollypop she had been sucking on for the last half hour still lingering on her tongue. It was intoxicating, like she herself, and it was swallowing him whole. He couldn't breathe, but he couldn't stop, he felt sure at any moment that he was going to faint from the lack of oxygen, but still he could not pull away.

This wasn't why he had come here. It wasn't what he had meant to do, but she had stood there in the doorway, her eyes flashing with defiance but at the same time shining with unshed tears, and he found he couldn't resist her. The feel of her, the taste of her, the smell and the sound of her ragged breath mixing with his, it was everything he had ever needed and everything he had never wanted and it was going to kill him if he didn't make it stop. Stop. It needed to stop. He needed to stop kissing her. That was the key. If he could stop kissing her, touching her, then he would be able to regain his composure and say what he had come here to say.

Reluctantly, painfully, he tore himself from her. He pushed her at the shoulders with his hands until that was the only part of them that was touching. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to take back his hands. She had claimed a part of himself forever with that kiss and at the moment, that part was manifesting itself in the form of his hands.

"Cameron. This…this was not my plan. I didn't come here to…I didn't come here for this."

She rolled her eyes at his and leant her head back against the wall of the corridor they had somehow ended up in. She silently wondered how the door had gotten closed, and what had happened to her lollypop.

"So then, why are you here? You didn't quite fill your 'bug Cameron until she cries' quota for today at work, so you decided to come to my house for some after-hours snarking?"

"Oh honestly, could you be more self-important if you tried? I'm not here to bug you, or to kiss you, I didn't even particularly want to see you at all, but since this is your apartment I suppose it's almost mandatory."

He was annoyed with her now. His voice was full of it. Full of irritation and sarcasm and the bitter sting which she now, after a year and a half of working for him, recognized as pain. She wasn't entirely sure how long they'd been kissing for, but she knew that they had been standing in her doorway for about ten minutes before that had started, and she hadn't seen him take a vicodin, so by now he must be getting pretty tired. But he didn't reach for his pocket, he didn't even wince, just stood there and stared at her; his gaze unshrinking, uncompromising, and he still hadn't taken his hands from her shoulders.

She wished she could move. She wished she could get away from him, and his eyes, and his hands, and his voice. But she couldn't. She wouldn't be the first one to look away; she would not be weak. So there they stood, she refusing to be weak, and he unable to be strong, they stood. They were trapped.

"You have my house-keys." He said suddenly, hanging his head in the space between them. "They're attached to the key-ring that I gave you earlier to open my desk drawer. I need them, to get into my apartment." Looking back up at her again, he met her eyes with an apologetic almost smile and a shrug. "That's why I'm here."

Her mouth formed a small 'O' and she nodded slightly.

"That's why I'm here." He repeated, as from somewhere unknown he found the strength to pull back his hands from her, and replace them by his sides. He noticed she was still nodding as she stared at the wall behind him.

"I'll just, I'll go get them for you."

She slid past him further into the apartment and disappeared from sight. Noticing properly for the first time since he got there the incredible pain shooting up and down his leg, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the small brown canister. He fumbled with the lid, his hands suddenly stiff and uncontrollable, he couldn't get the lid off, no matter how hard he tried. Her hands on his caused him to jump back and his elbow made sharp contact with the wall. Rubbing his elbow he stared at her incredulously. She had taken the bottle from him, removed the cap and was holding it out to him along with the keys. He accepted her offerings and poured himself a couple of pills, while she bent down to pick up his cane, which she held out to him the same as she had the pills and the keys.

He took the cane with a quiet thankyou, and made his way slowly to the door. When he got there he turned to her, his hand still on the doorknob, a silent and ever present reminder that he was leaving. Very, very soon.

"I know why I do the things I do. Everything I do, I know why I do it, and I'm fairly certain that most of the time, you know why I do it too. The only thing that gets me, is that I never know why you _let_ me do the things I do."

She looked tired as she regarded him, leaning against the kitchen doorframe, her hands in her pockets, a strand of hair swept across her cheek, her foot drawing imaginary circles on the carpet beneath her. She looked worn out and fed up and every other phrase he could think of that meant she looked tired. But she said nothing.

"Seriously Cameron, give me an answer here. I mean, I yell at you, and you let me, I make you cry, and you let me, I ridicule you and you let me, and then I _kiss_ you, and you let me. And now you're standing there, and you're not even angry at me, you're just letting me do everything that I do without even so much as a blink and I don't understand why!"

She gave a short laugh, soft and quiet. She looked down at the floor, searching for an answer in the thick threads of carpet tangled in her toes. And when she looked back up, she saw it in him. The desperation. The need for an answer that would release him from whatever prison he felt she had him in, for an answer that would give him permission to leave her without feeling guilty or responsible for his actions. For an answer that would restore the fragile balance of their screwed up world. An answer that would make it right again.

But she couldn't give it to him. So many times she had given him what he needed, given him an easy out, but she couldn't do it again, not this time. This time she simply looked him in the eyes, and stretched a sad smile across her face.

"You know why." And before he could answer she walked back into the kitchen. Standing by the counter she reached into the pot and pulled out another lollypop. The sharp taste of sweetened lemons hit her tongue, accompanied by the salt of the tears sliding down her face and into her mouth. She heard the soft click of the door closing a moment later and she knew that he was gone.


End file.
